


After All, Isn't This Just A Momentary Thing?

by NeoVenus22



Category: True Blood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoVenus22/pseuds/NeoVenus22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Sookie expected when she walked into her house was the smell of bacon frying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After All, Isn't This Just A Momentary Thing?

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: 4x06, 'I Wish I Was the Moon'  
> Challenge: Amnesia!Eric, Sookie, domestic

The last thing Sookie expected when she walked into her house was the smell of bacon frying. Well, more accurately, the smell of bacon burning. Eric was standing by the stove, grease staining the front of Jason's shirt. He looked pained.

"Are you... making breakfast?" It was only a little after sundown.

A small, apologetic grin twitched on his face. "I'm not very good. I'm just trying to do what I saw you do. Human food smells awful."

"It'd smell better if you were doing it right," she said. "Here, move over." She turned off the stove and inspected the strips of bacon sticking to the pan. They were technically edible, but only if you had the super strong jaws of, say, a werewolf. Of course, a werewolf preferred his meat considerably rawer than this.

"Is it okay?" Eric said, looking at her hopefully.

Sookie wondered if this was what a woman went through the first Mother's Day her children were old enough to use the kitchen, presenting a tray of burnt toast, runny eggs, undercooked oatmeal, all served with a heaping side of love. Well, Eric didn't love her, but it was still a bad breakfast made with good intentions. Sookie looked into his eager eyes and knew she couldn't shoot him down. "It looks great," she said, resigning herself to an assault on her taste buds. He was a vampire. All human food was the same to him, useless and disgusting. Who cared if it was overcooked or not?

Sookie sat down, at Eric's insistence, so he could prepare a plate for her. In addition to the bacon, he'd managed to make something resembling scrambled eggs, and unburnt toast, although he hadn't thought to put either of those in the oven while he'd waited for her to come home, so they were cold. The orange juice was fine, as was, surprisingly, the coffee. Sookie decided to be momentarily grateful she didn't have a job to go to in the morning, and took a healthy slug of the coffee. She'd need her energy if this meal was going to be followed by a repeat of the night before.

"I'm glad to be back," he said, watching her eat in a way that was only slightly unnerving.

"Why do you think Bill let you live?" she couldn't help asking. Maybe she'd gotten through to him after all. Bill was so much of a stranger these days, but she didn't think the old Bill would've been as generous, either. She remembered Eric on her doorstep covered in wet cement, courtesy of Bill, and knew she was right. So why did he change his tune?

"I think I appealed to His Majesty's heart."

"Vampires don't have hearts," Sookie said. The wound from Bill's betrayal was still too fresh, too raw.

But then she looked at Eric's carefully prepared 'dinner' and his crestfallen face, and she instantly regretted her quick words. Sure, she'd dismissed earlier the idea Eric might love her, but this effort clearly showed he cared. A more cynical girl, which Sookie thought she was dangerously close to becoming, might interpret this gesture as a ploy to get laid. She remembered him weeping tears of blood in her bed, her lap, and knew that wasn't true. Bill's affections for her might all have been an orchestrated plot on the part of the queen, but Eric, the one here and now in her kitchen, wasn't under the influence of anyone. He wasn't malicious, he was... heartfelt.

Sookie reached across the table and squeezed his hand in her own. It was unyielding. "Eric, I'm sorry. What I said was cruel. But I didn't mean you. I meant Bill."

"He has hurt you," Eric guessed. It wasn't much of a guess.

"Yes," she said. She elaborately chewed and swallowed cold eggs, giving herself time before she answered. "He lied to me. He lied about loving me." It wasn't a full version of the truth, but it was the only version she was willing to give at the moment. She didn't want to explain about Sophie-Anne, particularly since she didn't know what had happened to Sophie-Anne. She could guess, but she didn't really want to know. And Eric didn't need to know, not now.

"He must have loved you," said Eric. "He spared me. Because he knew you wanted him to. Because he knew I could protect you. Because he knew I could make you happy."

Sookie thought of the old Eric, the one who wouldn't be caught dead in Jason's castoffs, especially not several nights in a row. The one who'd offered her protection, yes, but for his own needs, his own stupid political game. He'd offered his services, but never to make her happy. At least, not happy other than sexually.

"And you could make me happy?" she asked softly, more to herself than to him.

"Yes," said Eric, without hesitation. Spoken with the conviction of someone who doubted neither his intent nor his abilities. "I can keep you safe. Pam told me I have many resources. You can have anything you want. And you told me I'm very good in bed," he added with a grin. Blushing, Sookie recalled a passionate confession the previous night in the woods. "You've made me so happy, Sookie. I can do the same for you."

Sookie closed her eyes, willing herself to not think of Bill and similar promises made, all empty.

There were so many reasons not to involve herself with Eric Northman, not least of which that he was not truly himself and would not be this way forever. How was it that vampires lived forever, yet relationships with them seemed to be so temporary?

Sookie took a bite of cold toast, the golden pat of butter in the center stubbornly refusing to melt.

"You're going to leave."

"I won't leave you. Not for anything."

"Even if you get your memories back?"

"Even then. Come to bed, Sookie. I'll show you how happy I can make you."

Sookie felt it wouldn't be prudent to hop into bed with him at the moment, never mind how much her body hummed at the thought, never mind even that she'd actually anticipated it. She was too vulnerable. They both were. Sex with Eric was beyond fantastic, but it was too weighted. It wouldn't last. He would get his memory back eventually, go back to being the psychopathic frat boy that intrigued but mostly irritated her. He'd lord their brief tenure together over her, which could be dangerous. She'd be alone again, doomed to be dumped by vampires whose admiration was circumstantial. She'd be crazy Sookie again, barmaid (former barmaid), fangbanger without any fangs to bang. Poor, lonely, crazy Sookie Stackhouse. Her brother had every woman in the parish, and she had no one.

Somehow, it didn't seem smart to sleep with Eric now because no one would want her later.

"What are you thinking, Sookie?" asked Eric, and she realized she'd been sitting in contemplative silence too long.

"I was thinking," she said, "that the best things never last."

Eric seemed to weigh her statement in his mind before replying. "That's what makes them the best. They're fleeting, so we appreciate them more."

In a series of surprising events lately, having a philosophical discussion with Eric Northman over the breakfast he'd cooked for her was working its way onto the list. He spoke like he knew all too well what he was talking about, which he did, even if he didn't remember it. Imagine how fleeting and momentary everything felt in a lifespan as long as his.

"So what's the solution?" she asked, pushing her plate away from her, having given up on the illusion she was going to force-feed herself any more. Eric, for his part, didn't notice or didn't seem to mind, now that something else was occupying his thoughts.

"Not wasting any time," was the answer. Easy for him to say. He had all the time in the world to waste.

And what did Sookie have, exactly? Jason was home safe with Hoyt and Jessica. He hadn't shifted. And it wasn't as though Sookie had a job to go to. She'd debated pleading with Sam, but thought giving him a bit more time to cool down couldn't hurt. As a result, she'd spent the day doing nothing, until she'd made the executive decision to go to Shreveport and have a sit-down with Alcide, to ask him questions about shifting in a less stressful situation. Of course, he'd seemed antsy and not at all thrilled to have her there, so it had been something of a bust all around. She'd actually been feeling good and sorry for herself when she'd come home, until she'd seen all the effort Eric had made for her.

Really, all she had right now was Eric. And Eric wasn't going to be here forever, not this way. His argument became more and more compelling the longer she dwelled on it. Finally, she smiled at him and took his hand. "All right, Eric," she said, "let's not waste any time. Make me happy."

Eric grinned, a sight that excited and terrified her all at once. "I will," he promised, then did one better than hand-holding, moving around the table and scooping her up in his arms in one powerful, graceful movement. Sookie, feeling instantly better, laughed as he carried her off to the bedroom, at normal speed. They left the mess for later.


End file.
